


anticipation

by YouAreMyDesign



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Blow Jobs, Breathplay, Choking, Cock Warming, Come Marking, Coming Untouched, Dom Hannibal Lecter, Established Relationship, Gags, Ice Play, Light Sadism, M/M, Masochism, Nipple Piercings, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Possessive Behavior, Restraints, Rough Oral Sex, Sub Will Graham, Temperature Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-27 22:41:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22623496
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouAreMyDesign/pseuds/YouAreMyDesign
Summary: Will is, of course, as breathtaking in his pain as he is in everything else.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 28
Kudos: 251





	anticipation

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nephila_clavipes](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nephila_clavipes/gifts).



He truly is exquisite, like this. Arms bound with soft, black fabric, wrists to the floor on either side of his head, preventing him moving away and robbing him of the ability to do little more than squirm. There's a thick strip of black around his eyes, so he cannot anticipate. A short bar, not dissimilar in thickness and material to a policeman's nightstick, keeps his knees spread apart.

Hannibal approaches, kneels down, watches with pleasure as Will's head tilts, like a puppy with its ears pricked, sensing movement and heat in Hannibal's proximity. Hannibal kneels so that one knee is on either side of Will's head, close enough for him to sense the enclosed space, but not so close that Will touches.

Still, his fingers flex, wanting to reach.

Hannibal starts with his wrists. Even the subtle stir of air, caused by his natural body heat, is enough to get Will to react to him. He is so sweetly aware of Hannibal, in ways no other could ever hope to be. Just a single, dust-light tease of Hannibal's nail across the fabric, causing it to move just so, fraying edges dragging along the purple webbing in Will's wrist, is enough to make him gasp.

"Hannibal," Will breathes, like a question. Like a prayer. Hannibal smiles, flattens his other hand and rests it in the air above Will's panting mouth. Will can feel how his exhale meets Hannibal's palm, will feel it echo back to him. 

Will sighs. His bare, exposed body hides nothing. He hardens under Hannibal's gaze, proud of being noticed, ravenous for Hannibal's awareness in turn. The muscles in his stomach twitch, grow defined and smooth in rhythm in time with his breathing.

"Shh," Hannibal replies, and Will's fingers clench, cock twitching just at the sound of his voice. Hannibal touches two fingertips to Will's wrist, below the line of fabric, slides them up in a lazy serpentine and Will makes a sound like he's choking.

His pulse is rabbiting, every fresh haze of his scent grows full-bodied and thick. Prey-animal adrenaline, arousal like moss and vines. Slow-creeping. Damp, sweat making him shine as he begins to pant. Trying to keep a hold of himself, to not lose it too soon.

Poor thing. 

He turns one hand, spreads his fingers out and forces Will's to part for him. Will gasps at the feeling, the warmth of their skin sliding together, locking, knuckle to knuckle. A pearly bead of precum drips from Will's cock as Hannibal slides his thumb across Will's wrist.

Hannibal smiles. Beside Will, far enough away that Will is not aware of their presence, sits his quarry, his trove of implements he intends to use on Will tonight. 

But first, a hungry curiosity has blinked at him from behind his own lowered lashes. Will has always been sensitive, an awareness of the room unparalleled except perhaps by Hannibal's perception. He has often brought Will to the brink of ecstasy, to a quivering mess of raw skin and wordless screams, before letting him take the inevitable plunge into pleasure.

Will is, of course, as breathtaking in his pain as he is in everything else.

He rakes his nails up Will's forearms, to the crook of his elbow, then pulls his hands away completely and closes his eyes as Will whimpers again, arching as best he can to chase the sensation. But there is nothing to chase; Hannibal will not allow Will to overtake his pace. 

"Shh," he whispers again. Will, shaking, breathing hard, settles. His skin breaks out in gooseflesh as Hannibal taps, just once and very finely, at the corner of his mouth. Hannibal watches, rewarding the increments through which Will's body relaxes with another sweep of the backs of his knuckles across Will's blushing-red cheeks. 

He teases the pads of his thumbs along Will's brow, tracing the corners until he reaches the soft give of the fabric shielding Will's eyes from sight. For a moment, his mouth twists in displeasure - it would be unbearable for Will, he's sure, to be able to see him. But Hannibal is selfish.

He exhales. _Patience_.

Will sucks in a harsh breath as Hannibal pushes the edge of his forefinger between Will's lips, forcing them to part. He clings, chapped and dry until Hannibal works his teeth apart and soaks himself in the saliva coating Will's tongue. His mouth, blissfully warm and so sweetly wet, his breathing even but shallow as Hannibal pets into the corner of his mouth, stretching his lips wide to reveal his teeth like he might check the bite of an animal.

He pulls his finger out, waits until the saliva grows cool and tacky on his skin, and then pets over Will's wrist again. Gentle as silk, only enough surface area to give the impression of electric shock, a static cling of hair and skin.

Will gasps when Hannibal's other hand spreads through his hair, twisted and sliding down between Hannibal's spread legs as he rakes his nails over Will's scalp, lets his fingers catch in the snarl of curls at the top of his head, slide through them, yanking them into submission, and he curls his hand at the base of Will's skull.

"Hannibal," Will rasps. His thighs tremble. The bar keeping his knees spread rattles in place, whiting out the skin as he tries to pull them together. His feet curl up, toes arched upwards, heels dug in as he tries to keep still, resists the desire to stretch or lunge or otherwise give himself some relief. "Please…."

Hannibal's brows rise. He flattens two of his fingers a half-inch shy of Will's jaw, taps one, then the other, as Will shivers and clenches his fists on the outside of Hannibal's knees. 

"You may regret begging so soon, darling," Hannibal says, amusement coloring his voice. "Start too aggressively and there's nowhere to go."

Will lets out a rough, frustrated breath. If the blindfold weren't present, Hannibal is sure he would be treated to Will's bright, furious eyes. They turn such a lovely shade when he's all worked up. 

Will bares his teeth, and Hannibal hooks his nails in the space between his canines. "Now, now," he says, teasing, fingertips spreading wide along Will's molars, stretching his lips wipe. He cannot help pushing three of his fingers flat into Will's mouth, petting along the rough palate, gracelessly brushing _just_ close to the softness preceding his uvula. Will gentles immediately, knowing a threat. His tongue curls around Hannibal's fingers in apology.

Hannibal hums, smiling. His other hand returns to Will's nape, holding him by the shorter hairs at his neck, twisting until Will gags and whimpers around the fingers in his mouth. Hannibal shoves deeper, his little finger included, covers Will's nose with the heel of his hand and curls his fingers until he's plugged and barely able to breathe.

Will moans roughly, jerking against the ties keeping his wrists on the floor. Hannibal holds him for a moment, a moment more, feels Will's tongue and throat clench and imagines Will doing the same around his cock.

He releases Will and lets him breathe, gasping, his lips slick with spit and blooming a bruised red. His cheeks have grown several shades darker, his nostrils flaring now that they have room.

Hannibal lifts his hand, spreads his fingers to admire the shine of Will's saliva on them. He pushes himself to his feet and Will flinches like he's been struck, a soft, animal sound of terror escaping him, at the idea of Hannibal leaving him, blind and alone.

"Hush, darling," Hannibal murmurs. Will's fear of abandonment, while a tantalizing lure as a subject of exploitation, is not what his sights are set on tonight. He bends down to scoop up the cup of ice he brought, the damp cloth, the little dish holding a small clamp and needles, and the jar of ointment he has, all on a tray. 

He approaches, kneels down, and sets the tray on Will's wide-splayed knees. "Don't move," he commands, carefully balancing the tray and then securing it with straps to Will's ankles, the tops of his thighs, and the bar keeping his knees spread. It will not fall, nor the contents move too much, until Will does something drastic.

"Oh…. _Oh_ ," Will breathes, his stomach tensing and his feet planting on the floor, a subtle flexing of his hips helping him get somewhere steady so that he doesn't make the tray fall. A tremor runs up his arms and he wets his lips. Hannibal smiles; his Will is such a glutton for practicality. Usefulness and passion entwined to something with blurred edges and uneven saturation. 

He kneels around Will's head again, leans up and gathers the glass of ice, holding it so that Will doesn't feel the drip of condensation. Will's breathing is labored as he settles, his lips parted around heavy gasps.

Hannibal smiles, and feeds him a chip of ice, sliding it deep into his mouth and keeping his thumb behind as Will tenses, hisses at the sudden cold. He can't chew with Hannibal's thumb in his mouth, must simply let the ice melt and soak into the flesh Hannibal abused with his fingers mere moments before.

"Good boy," he purrs, when Will swallows. He feeds Will another, and Will takes the second one with much more grace, now that he knows what to expect.

It is then, with one of Hannibal's hands wet and cold, the other wet and warm, that Hannibal sets the cup down, reaches out and brushes his fingers along each of Will's nipples. Will gasps, collarbones sticking out sharply as he breathes in and tries to be still, the tray and its contents rattling alarmingly with his tremors before he settles.

Hannibal's smile grows wide. He leans down, flattening his cold hand along Will's nipple to make it pebble and peak, feels Will groan and shiver beneath him as he lowers his head and tongues around it. Will whimpers for him, cock dark red and leaking as Hannibal draws his nipple into his mouth and sucks, loud and harsh.

His warmer hand, he spreads wide around Will's other nipple, knuckle of his middle and ring finger framing the dark little bud, able to feel how Will's heart rabbits against his palm. Will's chest heaves in both invitation and excited breath, Will's head lifting so he can nuzzle at Hannibal's chest where it's braced over him.

Hannibal pulls back with a laugh that is more cutting than amused. "Down, Will," he commands, pushing Will's hair back from his face and then further still, forcing Will's head to the ground. Will whines in protest, presses his lips together and licks them. "You ought to learn to appreciate patience."

Will's lip twitches. He knows better than to bite back.

Hannibal leans over him again, kisses wide over Will's nipple, tongue curling around it and bringing it to a warm peak. He digs his teeth into the flesh around it as Will moans, a tremor running through his ribs, down his spine, as Hannibal sucks mercilessly at his nipple and kneads his teeth into the skin around it.

When he pulls back, Will's chest has a deep red ring of teeth embedded in it, the skin inside Hannibal's marked border the same dark red as his leaking cock.

Hannibal smiles, gathers another chip of ice in his fingers, and flattens it around Will's nipple, soothing the soreness with the cool, melting water as Will gasps and moans weakly beneath him, head trapped under Hannibal's chest so that even when he rears up, he can't go far. Still, his legs obediently remain, wary of letting the tray fall.

With his cold, wet fingers still circling Will's first nipple, Hannibal devotes the full attention of his mouth to the second. He cups Will's pectoral muscle, nails dug tight to the warm flesh that seems to pulse in time with Will's heartbeat. He takes Will's nipple between his teeth and bites, so lightly, tugs so long Will buries a scream behind his teeth.

" _Hannibal_ ," Will gasps, head dropping back when Hannibal releases him, nuzzles the bitten-red skin and licks around the little bud. "Please, _fuck_ , I can't…"

"You can," Hannibal murmurs, assures him, petting Will's soft, exposed stomach. Drags light nails along the cut of his hips, cups him at the small of his back and nuzzles Will's sternum, a soft kiss soothing him. Beautiful, oversensitive; Hannibal can smell the salt of Will's tears and see the shine of precum sat in a thick pool on his lower stomach, dripping down to soak into his pubic hair.

His mouth waters, but he forces himself not to push further.

"I really can't," Will protests, a weak growl. Hannibal's brows rise, and he pushes himself upright so he can see how Will's lovely mouth is twisted into a rough, open-mouthed gasp. How the cloth around his eyes clings a little more with damp tears. "The anticipation is killing me."

"Perhaps that's the point," Hannibal returns with a smile. To that, Will bites his lower lip and whines. Hannibal moves away from his head, kneels by Will's chest, below his bound arm. He prowls over Will and imagines Will can see him. What might he be thinking, Hannibal wonders, seeing such a predator descending on his helpless offering of flesh.

He lowers his head to Will's nipple and bites, and Will arches up savagely, a cry stuck in his throat. Hannibal reaches out, steadying the tray before it can tip too far.

His other hand flattens wide on Will's collarbones, slides up to trap the base of his larynx as Will jerks his hands, tries to bring his arms together to shelter and protect himself. He lets Will's nipple go with a loud sucking sound, spreads his fingers along Will's throat, grips him firmly like Will's artery was cut and Hannibal can keep him from bleeding out through pressure alone.

Again, Will relaxes in increments. The balls of his feet and his heels press on the floor. His thighs steady. His elbows lower back to the floor.

Hannibal smiles, and kisses Will's slack mouth. "Good boy," he purrs. Knuckles brush Will's cheek, thumb pushed into the sweet hollow behind his chin. "Shh, shh." He kisses Will's pulse, licks the first damp cling of sweat from his skin. Pushes the base of his fingers, palm-down, against Will's soft tricep until he reaches the outward jut of bone at his elbow.

Will's breathing is no longer steady. His cock sits in a pool of his own precum, twitching every time Hannibal's lips, fingers, breath brushes over him. Hannibal kisses his way down to Will's nipple again, licks wide and warm across it the same way he might lavish such attention on Will's rim, spread wide and just made to be red and wet. 

Will moans, loudly, his voice echoing off the barren walls, a cacophony of agonized pleasure. " _Fuck,_ it feels like you're clawing out my lungs." His breath hitches, chest heaving, just on the cusp of hyperventilating.

Hannibal rises, shushing him, wraps a hand around Will's throat and squeezes. He can smell the adrenaline that floods Will's brain at the fear, the mess of arousal and anxiety, too blind and weak and bound in the darkness to anticipate and control and only able to react.

He clenches his fingers until Will can't breathe, releases to let him, does it again. If Will can't control the rhythm on his own, Hannibal is more than willing to help him.

Will's head falls back, lax, his fingers twitching weakly, calming because he has no choice. Hannibal closes his eyes, kisses his sweaty forehead, breathes in at Will's hair, able to detect the slight, _very_ slight, change that comes with oxygen deprivation. It soon corrects itself, but oh, that tease of lemon-sour sharpness is enough to make him salivate.

"Match me, darling," he coaxes, taking in an exaggerated breath so that Will can hear it. Will whimpers, fighting to suck in air past Hannibal's bruising grip on his throat. Hannibal's other hand curls in his hair, gives him something to focus on. He lets his air out, burning with pride when Will does the same. "Good, that's good, Will. In again."

With Will's next inhale, Hannibal tightens his hand around Will's neck, and Will chokes. He lets it out, slowly, piece by piece, as Will trembles and the tray rattles with another violent tremor through his legs.

Hannibal rises, and releases Will's neck and hair, taking the needles and cup of ice from the tray, the ointment, clamps, and cloth. He sets them all on Will's chest in a line, each implement placed with delicate care. He can practically hear Will's beautiful mind ticking, trying to figure out which thing is which.

Will's fingers flex, curl, nails digging crescents into his palms. When Hannibal has set everything out, he moves so his knees are on either side of Will's head again, and from his pocket he takes out the final piece. It's wrapped in plastic so that the lint in his pocket doesn't embed itself within it.

"Open your mouth, darling," he commands, watching with a smile as Will tilts his head back and obeys. Hannibal unwraps the plastic and sets it to one side, spreads the silicone wide within his fingers like he might stretch out a sock to pull up his foot, and slides it full-fingered between Will's teeth.

The upper and lower rubber settles behind Will's canines, the gag wide enough to tug at the corners of his mouth. At the hinge is a little dial, and when it's properly placed, Hannibal twists it, forcing Will's mouth wide, wide open.

Will lets out a wild, choked sound, fluid pooling in the roof of his mouth and clogging his nose. He whimpers, but dares not arch and dislodge any of Hannibal's tools. He knows better.

Hannibal sighs, and unfastens his suit pants, pulling his cock free of his clothes. The rustle of fabric makes Will's nostrils flare. He tilts his head back further in eager offering.

Hannibal slides his cock into Will's mouth, immediately plugging the back of his throat with his thick cockhead. Will's muscles tighten in spasm around him, and Hannibal growls, cupping his nape and holding him to the best angle. Shoves in deeper, until his thighs encase Will's ears. Until Will's breath puffs out on the base of his cock and through his pubic hair, until he can rest his hand on Will's bruised throat and feel the bulge of his own cock distending Will's tendons, parting muscle, firmly implanted.

He's trained Will for this. Will knows to relax, to let Hannibal use him. Whether or not he can remains to be seen, but that's what the gag is for. Will cannot bite, cannot accidentally hurt him when Hannibal hurts him first.

He smiles, for a moment merely resting, enjoying Will's warm, wet mouth, his tight throat, the helpless flutter of his tongue along the top of Hannibal's cock. He pets over Will's aching jaw, and twists the dial so that it closes just a little, compressing his cock at the base to the point where even if Hannibal were to come, he'd stay hard.

Then, he reaches for the ointment. It's cool to the touch, thick and greasy, and he spreads some on his fingers and paints the first of Will's nipples until it shines as much as the rest of his sweaty skin. Will's cock twitches at the sensations and he chokes on a weak little whimper.

Hannibal takes the clamps, next. Fits the teeth of them on either side of Will's nipple, sealing them tight so the bud is raised and exposed. He clenches his jaw when Will swallows around him, gagging on his cock, his hands fluttering weakly and, eventually, grabbing onto Hannibal's knees for purchase.

The needle is sharp and sterilized. A small gauge – he doesn't want Will gaping, here, after all. Not yet.

The clamps have a small hole on either side of them, for the needle to be pushed through. Hannibal takes the cloth in his receiving hand, folds it and holds it to the exit side of the clamps. He rests against Will for just a moment, and taps the needle against the very tip of his nipple.

Will shivers, and clenches his fingers in Hannibal's clothes.

It takes a sure hand and stubborn push to feed the needle through clamp, flesh, and back out again. Will winces, all of him tensing up in pain, his cock jumping rather dramatically as Hannibal pushes the needle into the cloth, grips it, and pulls it out the other side. Blood wells immediately, two small beads of it, that he wipes once the clamps are removed. He adds more ointment to the entry and exit sites, and then grabs the tiny barbells he purchased just for this. He unscrews one of the ball bearings, feeds the shaft through the hole, and twists it tight so that it remains in place.

Will's tears have soaked through the blindfold, now.

The second one is harder. Will is tense with anticipation and as a result his bitten-red flesh is harder to clamp, the skin not as loose. Still, Hannibal manages, after a series of tight squeezes around Will's throat that force him to relax. Once the second bar is placed, Hannibal wipes them both with tender care, and sets everything to one side.

He grips an ice chip in each hand, and lowers them to Will's sore nipples, rubbing along the fresh piercings and into the skin around them to help numb the pain. Will is sobbing now, as much as his fucked-open throat and bowstring-tense thighs will allow. He yanks on Hannibal's suit pants with every brush of Hannibal's fingers over his nipples, gags and chokes himself on Hannibal's cock as Hannibal twitches inside him.

Hannibal spreads his knees, so Will can hear;

"Once they're healed up," he murmurs, "I'll attach a chain to them, and put you just like this again, so that I can pull on them while I use your lovely mouth."

That is, apparently, the last straw for Will. He arches with an obscene noise, legs stretching out so the tray falls haphazardly across them – thankfully, now, with no burden to spill – and he arches as he comes, thick and in long spurts over his belly and his chest. Untouched. Remarkable thing. Hannibal smiles, feeling Will's throat spasm and clench around his cock, tempted beyond measure to run his fingers through Will's mess and paint his newly-pierced nipples with them.

He resists. It wouldn't be sanitary. But when they're healed….

Well, Hannibal's mind is nothing if not endlessly capable of possibilities.

Will tongues frantically at his cock, asphyxiating himself as his jaw clenches around the gag, he tilts his head and plants his heels and tries to force Hannibal deeper inside him. His relentlessness, his animal need to please, spears Hannibal deeply.

With a growl, he loosens the hinge of the gag so he can pull out, a gush of saliva following him as he leaves Will's sweet mouth, and stands.

He circles Will, watches him, flushed and shaking and lungs torn between breath and tears. He pulls the tray loose and straddles Will's thighs, stroking himself over his softening cock. He comes just like that, painting Will with his come, marking him. And if he manages a few splashes onto Will's red, swollen nipples, well, he'll be more than happy to make sure they are _thoroughly_ cleaned later.

Will groans, thrashing against his bonds, trying to tear at the cloth around his wrists and his eyes. Spit falls from the corners of his mouth, paints his lips, pools and mixes with his tears on his face. His come, and Hannibal's, comingles with the sweat on his skin. He looks decadent, ruined, blushing down to his belly and utterly torn apart.

Hannibal smiles, and removes the gag, cups Will's nape and leans down to kiss his panting mouth. A hand flattens on Will's chest, spread out wide, so that the tip of his thumb and his pinky can touch a piercing each.

Will whimpers, face twisted into a heady mix of pleasure and pain.

He collapses, breathing hard, swallows harshly. "Can I see them?" he rasps. Hannibal's cock tore his throat up beautifully; he can barely manage the words.

Hannibal smiles, and pulls the blindfold off, revealing Will's wide, watery eyes, lashes clumping thickly, irises big and black and almost completely obscuring that gunmetal blue. Hannibal kisses him, and helps him sit upright, hands still bound to the floor.

Will looks down, gasping at the sight of his swollen nipples, the silver balls gleaming brightly against his red, bitten, sweaty skin. Hannibal thumbs one of them and Will's entire body tightens with an aroused shiver.

"What do you think?" he asks.

Will swallows, meets his eyes. He's wretched and hurting and so, so lovely.

"I like them," he says, sweet and rough.

"They're beautiful," Hannibal agrees. He kisses Will's sweaty brow, carefully unbinds his hands, his legs, rubs tenderly at the raw, red marks chafed into his wrists. Will's smile is wide, eyelids heavy with the back surge of adrenaline, the slow burn of oxygen deprivation and that simple, burning pain.

His Will. So lovely, even in his suffering.

"Yeah," Will says. He bites his lower lip, eyes dark, and brushes his thumb over one of his nipples. Goes tense, sucking in a hissing breath. Hannibal doesn't miss how his cock twitches, his lashes flutter, the sigh he lets out heavy with satisfaction. "Yeah, they are."


End file.
